Suffer:as if you were an old, tired star, light has left you. And the creatureyou lighted (and who lightedyour eyes, blind to the world’strivial things)is now mortal again. Everything recoversits density, its weight, its volume,the poor balance that supportsyour new winter. Be glad. Your entrails are now again your entrailsand not coarse food of anxiety. You’re no longer that drunk and uncertain godthat you turned out to be. Bitethe bone they give you,down to the marrow, pick up the crumbs memory leaves behind.